Biking Poems

When Things Break, Read It As Opportunity

A chance, for example, to walk in the park
the evening your bike gets a flat
in the first hundred yards of a two-hour
Wednesday night ride. Your spare tube's
too big; the glue in your patch kit's
a bubble of rubber. What does it mean,
be prepared?
          The sign on the nature trail warns:
the story of every landscape
is one of continual change.


The day that the cursor winks its dissolve
into a flat black screen, be grateful.
It's ninety degrees in your study; too hot
to sweat the computer. Head to the porch,
write letters longhand--overdue thank-yous
for books you have time, now, to read.

And the heart. When it breaks, consider
the pleasure of living alone, free
to spend months in Scotland or Spain,
eat yogurt and berries for supper,
stay up all night, sleep
in the heat of the day--

                Get a grip.
Fall's on the way. Stop at the bike shop;
get the computer repaired. Equipped
with new tube and patch kit, you'll be
ready to change your own tires,
print out the Wednesday ride schedule,
flirt with the next man you meet.